


Bruises

by magebird



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blood, Blow Jobs, Bruises, M/M, Masochism, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magebird/pseuds/magebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's all dressed up in his best suit, with a split lip and a bruised face. Cobb just can't resist him when he's all beat up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** [Arthur, all dressed up in his best suit, with a split lip and a bruised face. Cobb just can't resist him when he's all beat up.](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/3434.html?thread=3045226#t3045226)

Most of the time the bruises he earned vanished as he awoke, leaving only a fading sense-memory of the dull ache and bright throb. The wounds healed instantly, the gunshots evaporated, the deaths were only temporary.

Arthur had grown used to that, almost expected it now, but of course any bruises his real body took weren’t as easy to erase as the ones he gained in dreams. He watched in the mirror as he traced light fingers over his cheek, where the blotchy, purpling mark spread from just below his eye to his nose. His split lip had stopped bleeding sluggishly hours ago, but he could still taste the blood when he ran his tongue across the cut at its center, and it was swollen and red.

There were other bruises, on his ribs and back. A row of them on his upper arm where he’d been dragged bodily out of his seat. A mark at the base of his throat where they’d pinned him down. But these were covered by a dark, heavy suit of navy blue, and a white collar ironed to a perfect crease and adorned with a flawlessly knotted tie. He had considered finding some make-up, to try and cover the marks or at least make them less noticeable…

“Arthur, are you all right in there?” Dom’s voice was right outside the door of the bathroom, and Arthur started a little, turning around. This line of work meant that dinner reservations weren’t canceled for such petty things as brushes with death at the hands of a mark’s private security forces, but Dom had insisted on accompanying him home to make sure that he didn’t have a concussion from when they’d slammed him against that wall.

“I’m fine,” he called back, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He turned on the water at the sink before Dom could reply, and splashed a little on his face, glancing up at himself in the mirror again. He had done his best to replicate his usual put-togetherness, but the bruises were in sharp contrast to his neat hair and expensive suit. He sighed. There wasn’t much that could be done.

Turning the water off, he dried off with a towel quickly, patting gingerly at the bruised side of his face, then headed to the door. Dom was in his living room, holding the still-full glass of ice water Arthur had given him on reflex when they’d come in the door, and he turned quickly when he heard Arthur come into the room. Dom was dressed in a suit as well, and Arthur gave him a quick once-over out of habit, noting that he’d have to refold his pocket handkerchief before they left.

For a long instant, Dom just stared at him, and Arthur felt the color rise involuntarily in his cheeks. He crossed his arms and ran his tongue over his split lip again.

Dom cleared his throat, “Arthur, you look… Uh…”

“I know. It looks a lot worse than it is.”

“No—No, you look…” Dom set the glass down on the coffee table and walked over, lifting his hand as if to touch Arthur’s face, but hesitating. His eyes slid down Arthur’s body, a pressure of attention Arthur could almost feel, from the visible injuries to Arthur’s perfectly arranged necktie and impeccably tailored suit. He swallowed. “You look really good.”

It took a second for the words to register, and then Arthur felt the blush rise in earnest on his face. He uncrossed his arms, frowning a little, “Really?”

“Yes.” Dom’s hand was almost icy from the glass of water as it brushed across Arthur’s cheekbone, soothing the throbbing of the bruise a little, then trailing down to rest his thumb lightly alongside the little cut on his lip.

Arthur felt his breath catch a little as Dom moved closer, one hand snaking possessively inside Arthur’s suit jacket and around his waist, pulling him in. Without meaning to, Arthur hissed a little as Dom’s arm pressed against a place near the small of his back where one of the security guards had kicked him, and Dom stilled, standing close. Arthur could feel him breathe in.

“Are you hurt under here?” The hand on Arthur's face hand trailed down to hook his tie, loosening it slightly, and there was a hungry edge to his tone. “Are there more bruises?”

It was easy to read the look in Dom’s eyes, and Arthur almost glanced at the clock, wondering if saying yes would make them miss their reservation. They had… Well, Arthur was chronically prompt, so they still had an hour before they absolutely had to be out of the house, if the traffic was in their favor.

“Yes,” he said, but even before he’s spoken Dom was pulling hard at his tie (probably yanking the silk all out of shape,) and barely taking the time to undo the buttons. One arm kept them pinned together at the waist, and Arthur squirmed a little to bring his hand up to start working on the buttons to his waistcoat.

Dom found the light bruises near Arthur’s collarbone and traced them with a cold finger before moving to unbutton his shirt further, exposing bare skin. Arthur pulled back for a second, shrugging off his jacket and tossing across the back of the sofa. Dom’s hands abandoned the buttons to smooth down across Arthur’s shoulders, closing around his upper arms and making him wince. Something like a growl shook itself from Dom’s throat, and he leaned forward to press his lips to Arthur’s, hard enough to split open the cut on his lip again, spreading the tang of copper between their mouths.

Arthur broke the kiss first, shrugging off his vest and throwing it after the jacket without looking to see if it landed neatly, looping his arms around Dom’s neck and deepening the kiss. Dom’s fingers returned to the important task of divesting Arthur of his shirt, and finally reached his belt. It took a bit more work to get _that_ unbuckled—Dom had never quite gotten the knack of working someone else’s belt bucket, and Arthur finally reached down, impatient, and unfastened it himself. Dom immediately found the button and zipper and pulled them both half open in a single smooth motion, his hands darting down the waistband of Arthur’s underwear to find his rapidly hardening cock.

A gasp broke from Arthur’s lips as Dom squeezed, just gentle enough not to cause pain, and then withdrew his hand to grab Arthur by the arm again, squeezing the bruises left along his bicep. Allowing himself a small groan, Arthur leaned forward to start undoing Dom’s tie. As he worked on unknotting it (just sliding it through could stretch the black silk and ruin it,) Dom’s fingers roamed across his exposed chest. The bruises on Arthur’s ribs were ridiculously sensitive, and he couldn’t bite back the little whimpering noises he made when Dom pressed against them, and he licked his lips again, tasting the blood oozing from his split lip. 

The pain of the bruises and cuts was transformed into something extremely sensual as Dom drew it out of him, something he’d earned, something he was proud to have. He’d fought and protected Dom to get these bruises, and they were each little badges, tokens of his sacrifice that he’d never been able to wear before, outside of dreams.

Dom’s tie fell to the floor, and Arthur began unbuttoning his shirt in an easy, practiced motion. The skin beneath Dom’s shirt was smooth, clean of any injury, and Arthur bent to run his tongue along the spot at the base of his throat that him shudder a little and tilt his head back, eyes closed. It didn’t take long to finish the buttons, and Arthur didn’t look down as he found Dom’s belt and unfastened it quickly. Next, the button and zipper of his pants, and Arthur’s hand reached in to close around Dom’s shaft, making him groan and say quickly, “Bedroom.”

Arthur half tripped over his pants trying to take a step, and Dom’s hand closed around his upper arm again, steadying him, making him let out his breath in a little hiss of pleasure and pain. It took him an awkward second to get his feet untangled from the fabric around his ankles and kick off his shoes, but Dom supported him with that hand biting deliciously into the bruises. Before he could pick the pants up to fold them so they wouldn’t crease, Dom was steering him towards his bedroom by that same firm hand, and Arthur let himself be led, the feeling of desire growing stronger than the need to keep himself neat. In fact, he rather thought Dom preferred seeing him this way, half-undressed, face flushed, erection starting to tent his underwear obscenely.

Dom took a second at the door to kick off his own shoes and pants, leaving them in the hall, and then he all but threw Arthur down on the bed, leaning over him with a hand braced on either side of his head. Arthur lay there, legs splayed, shirt open to reveal the purple marks on his pale skin, his tie still loosely knotted around his throat. For a long minute, Dom just stared at him, eyes roving over his heaving chest, down to where his dick was straining against the cotton of his underwear, up to where his hands were curled loosely near his head. He shifted, pinning one of Arthur’s hands to the comforter with each of his own and leaned down to kiss him again, licking the blood off his split lip before he invaded his mouth with his tongue.

Usually, Arthur liked to be on top, and Dom was almost always fine with that. It appealed to the controlling side of him to be the one calling the shots, but occasionally, when Dom got like this, it was nice to just lean back and allow himself to be ravished.

All too quickly, Dom stopped the wonderful things he was doing to Arthur’s mouth, and slipped lower to scrape his teeth across one of his nipples, making it harden and drawing a little whimper from Arthur's throat. He released his grip on Arthur’s wrists and went lower, slipping to his knees by the side of the bed and grabbing Arthur’s hips to draw him forward until his legs were hanging off the edge. Dom’s fingers bit into the sensitive flesh, and Arthur knew he would have marks there, too, before morning.

It took only a short jerk to yank his underwear down around his ankles, and Dom closed his mouth around Arthur’s cock almost as soon as it sprang free, making him hiss in something other than pain and jerk his hips off the bed in an instinctive gesture of lust. Dom kept his hands locked tight around Arthur’s hips, sliding his lips down his shaft slowly, his tongue drawing circles on the underside of his cock. Arthur’s hands clenched in the bedspread, and he groaned, thrusting up into Dom’s mouth, hot and wet. One of Dom’s hands wrapped around the bottom of Arthur’s cock, slick with spit and a growing amount of precum, keeping him from thrusting too deep and controlling the speed of the blowjob.

“ _Yes_ \--“ Arthur breathed, “C’mon—Dom, please, _faster_ \--“

Dom chuckled, increasing the speed of his strokes slowly, allowing Arthur deeper into his mouth by small increments. His tongue kept up its rhythm along the shaft, sending delightful tremors up Arthur’s spine, and his other hand kept up a constant steady stroke in time with the thrusts into Dom’s mouth. Arthur felt his other hand on his thigh, fingers tight, holding Arthur’s legs open to allow him better access to Arthur’s cock. His blunt nails bit into the tender skin a little, and the thought of the marks they would leave made Arthur’s arousal surge.

“Dom—“ he said, the word dissolving into a short little cry, and it was all the warning Dom really needed. He took Arthur’s cock deeply into his mouth, swallowing it down as far as he could without gagging, and the hot, wet pressure of him made Arthur give a strangled gasp and arch his back, the growing wave of his orgasm crashing over him in a sudden flood. He could feel Dom swallowing around his cock as it spasmed, Dom’s hands tight and hard on his thighs, and as the pleasure of his orgasm crested and started to fade, Dom slipped his mouth off, stroking his hand lightly over Arthur’s dick, teasing the last few tremors out.

Arthur was breathing hard as Dom lay down beside him, looping an arm across Arthur’s chest and Arthur rolled to kiss him again, absorbing the pain as his bruised lip pressed against his teeth. Dom levered himself up a little, and Arthur obligingly scooted to the side so he could bring a hand up to rub across the bulge in Dom’s underwear. There was a wet spot to one side where Dom was leaking precum—he always left stains—and Arthur slid his hand along the firm shaft, outlining it through the fabric.

Dom stopped him for a second with a hand on his wrist and got up onto his knees, tugging the underwear down before settling back on his heels so his dick stood erect. “I want to watch you.”

Arthur sat up, pulled his legs under him and leaned forward, meeting Dom’s eyes with a steady gaze as he closed his hands around Dom’s cock. The precum dripping down its length was enough lubricant to make his fingers slide easily along it, and he could feel Dom’s eyes watching the bruises all across his back as he leaned in. He wasn’t sure how many he had, since it had been hard to twist and see in the mirror, but suddenly Dom leaned forward, pressing two fingers into a spot that Arthur hadn’t known hurt, making him gasp.

Arthur could feel Dom’s cock twitch in his hands, and bent to take it into his mouth. He could taste the salt-sour of Dom’s precum mix with the blood that was still coming sluggishly from his split lip, and he tucked his knees under him to allow himself to better lick up and down the length of Dom’s cock. The sore spots on his back were all complaining, and Dom kept finding new places to make hurt, playing Arthur’s injuries like his back was an instrument. As Arthur tightened his lips around Dom’s cock, the bruise on his cheek protested, but he went on, sliding up and down, his hands supporting him on Dom’s thighs.

A hand fisted in his hair, suddenly, and Arthur allowed Dom to press him down, working hard to open his throat and allow Dom’s cock to slide to the back of his throat. He had less of a gag reflex than Dom, so it was easier for him, but after a second he pressed back up against Dom’s hand, and Dom let him up to breathe for a second before urging him firmly, gently, back down.

Dom wasn’t as vocal as Arthur, but Arthur had learned over time to read the more subtle signs than words, the way Dom’s hand tensed, the slight tremor that ran through his legs. Arthur slid a hand down, cupping Dom’s balls for a second before pressing back a little further, rubbing around Dom’s hole, making the other man gasp just a little and push forward into Arthur’s mouth.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he said in an undertone, the hand in Arthur’s hair sliding down to grip the back of his neck, making the bruises from being choked twinge again. Arthur redoubled his efforts, his fingers pressing in tight circles near Dom’s ass, his tongue teasing the head of his cock, making him buck a little, trying to go deeper.

There was always a second of stillness for warning before Dom came, and Arthur felt all his muscles tense under Arthur's splayed fingers. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed Dom’s cock all the way down to the base, feeling it pulse as something warm shot down his throat and Dom gave a soft, grunt, his hands clenching against Arthur’s back and leaving red stripes on the white skin. Arthur kept swallowing until he heard Dom let out the breath he had been holding in a long, sighing exhalation, his hands relaxing against Arthur’s flesh. Arthur sat up slowly, leaning back into a kneeling position with his feet tucked under his naked ass and wiping the spit off his mouth with the back off his hand.

Dom was watching him with dark, smiling eyes, and Arthur saw him focus on his bruised cheek again, then on his swollen lip. There was a certain pride in his face, something that made Arthur warm with a similar emotion, and he reached out to rest his hand alongside Arthur’s face, not pressing on the bruise, just touching it for a moment.

After a second he let his hand fall, still smiling, and said, “We probably still have time to get dressed and make it to the restaurant if you drive fast.”

\-----

They arrived twenty minutes late due to a traffic accident on the freeway and the fact that Arthur refused to allow Dom to get dressed without ironing their pants, and the others had already found the table and ordered drinks. Arthur took the free chair next to Ariadne, and Dom sat next to Yusuf across the table from him. She took one look at his face, and swiveled to face Dom with an expression of horror.

“What _happened_ to him?!” she demanded in a voice loud enough that some of the other diners looked over their shoulders at them.

“Arthur, darling, if he’s hurting you this is a _safe place_ ,” Eames said from the other end of the table, amusement evident in his voice, “You don’t have to say you ran into a cupboard door.”

Arthur rolled his eyes a little and Dom said hastily, “One of the clients had a private security force that got wind of us halfway through a job this morning.”

“Turns out a punch in the face is almost as good as a kick, in a pinch,” Arthur added, touching the bruise below his eye lightly. 

Ariadne still looked horrified, but Eames said with a grin, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Oh, _haha._ ” Arthur glared at him.

“You know,” Yusuf said, “I can offer you an excellent pain medicine if you’d like, until you’re healed.”

“No—“ Arthur said, maybe a bit too quickly, because all eyes turned towards him, and he felt that embarrassing flush rise in his cheeks. Maybe in the low light of the restaurant they wouldn’t notice, but he caught Dom smiling. “Ah, no. It’s really a lot worse than it looks, I bruise easily. Usually it’s in a dream, though, so you don't have to see it.”

“Uhuh.” Eames’ voice was flat, and Arthur got the distinct impression he didn’t believe a word. Arthur saw him glance at Dom for a second before hiding his face with the menu.

Under his suit, he could still feel where Dom’s fingers had dug into him, and he leaned back a little, pressing the bruises against his chair and enjoying the ache.


End file.
